


Black Cat Across the Road

by Mirrored_Illusions



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, F/M, Independent Harry Potter, Intelligent Harry Potter, Manipulative Dumbledore, Pre-Book(s), Revenge, Slow To Update, Time Travel, Weasley Bashing, Wizarding World Bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-05-10 23:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5604766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirrored_Illusions/pseuds/Mirrored_Illusions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hadrian Potter thinks back on his life on the day he celebrated his first centennial and the morning after he wakes up inside the Cupboard Under the Stairs. After finding a newspaper he realizes he has several years to plan his revenge on the Wizarding World, and also to get the education he was denied the first time around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Reflection in the Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at a Harry Potter fic, although I have written several fics in other fandoms. 
> 
> I don't have a beta so this isn't beta-read.
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Hadrian James Potter was standing in front of his bathroom mirror and staring at his own face. Today he had celebrated his first centennial. He had been alive for one hundred years, 89 of which he had spent in and out of the British Magical World. Well, about 91 and a half if he counted the first 15 months which he had spent with his parents, Lily and James Potter before they were killed.

His eyes were still a brilliant, emerald green. His hair was still an inky black that reached his shoulders but was as unruly as it had ever been. Only his face really looked different; it had lost what little baby fat he had been able to gain by the age of eleven, and instead, it had light age lines. It was one of the few signs of his advanced age. As Hermione had once told him: he was lucky to age so gracefully.

Another big difference was his famous scar.  Back then it had been an an eye-catching reminder shaped like a lightning bolt which acted like a magnet to the eyes of the wizarding population, but now it was much thinner and faded to the point where people had to almost be nose to nose with him to spot it. The change had been a relief to a then 20-year-old Hadrian.

If people ignored the old look in his eyes then he could easily pass for somewhere between a young 40 and 50, depending on the circumstances and his mood. Hermione had only looked slightly older than him when she had been killed 36 years previously. Over three and a half decades later and he could still not believe who her killer had been.

Forcing his eyes closed and his wandering thoughts back to where they were supposed to be, he re-opened his eyes. Like so many times before he wished that he could go back in time and change his life. Make different decisions, make sure he entered the Wizarding World with the knowledge he should’ve had if Sirius hadn’t been blinded by the shock of his friends deaths and his own need for revenge, and if Dumbledore hadn’t placed him with his magic-hating relatives to make sure he was properly beaten and starved into submission and ready to follow Dumbledore’s manipulations.

After the war was over he had gone back to check if the Dursley’s had been affected by magic somehow, if there were spells or hexes on them or a cursed object in the house. In the end, it had turned out that they really did hate magic that much and the abuse had been their idea. The only part that could be blamed on Dumbledore was a spell which ensured he was fed less than the rest of the family. It had been cast on their wedding bands. Neither of them had regretted their actions, and Dudley’s brief understanding of what had really happened at #4 Privet Drive had been short lived.

Even now the betrayal made him want to torture and kill the old bastard. As far as he and Hermione had been able to tell the old codger hadn’t done it because he wanted power, he certainly had more than enough of that, but rather because he had wanted the Potter wealth. The Black accounts had been viewed as an excellent bonus, and over half of it had been earmarked for the Weasley family.

The set-up had been beautifully staged and in his naive innocence, he had walked straight into the trap and then spent years stupidly fighting to remain there. In the later years, it had been kept up with a liberal use of compulsion charms and love potions.

Ironically his release had come after a drunken night out with Fred and George in the normal world. The three of them had been celebrating the fifth year anniversary of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes when they had been arrested by the police for being drunk and disorderly. The fact that none of them had been carrying any kind of ID hadn’t helped their case, and neither had the twins’ laughing fit.

They’d been kicked out of the station at 6 am after sleeping off most of the alcohol, and they had walked to a side alley before the Weasley’s had apparated to the flat above their shop and Hadrian had accidentally apparated into Hermione’s apartment outside the magical enclaves instead of number 12 Grimmauld Place. It had turned out to be one of the better mistakes in his life.

Five days of his best friends detox, which she had genuinely believed to simply consist of alcohol, and some overpowered _Finite Incantatem_ ’s later, for what she thought had only been some drunken magical jokes, and suddenly he had been thinking more clearly than he had in nearly a decade.

Most of the time had been spent flushing potions out of his body, and then on his knees throwing up. As his mind cleared he convinced her to go through it as well. Neither of them had been happy when it was over, and the last day had been spent planning their revenge.

Hadrian smirked at his reflection. Payback is a bitch and the two youngest Weasley’s had spent the next 50 years on their knees, literally, paying for theirs. The money had been given to various non-magical charities on Hermione’s insistence as she had refused point blank to take the money or allow Hadrian to take it.

After their “sentence” was over Hadrian had completely obliviated the last 60 years from their memories and then dropped them off a ten-minute walk from the remains of the Burrow. Not that there had been much left for them to come home to, but since they now thought they were 7 and 8 it would’ve been cruel to leave them elsewhere.

The rest of the Weasley’s hadn’t fared much better. Mrs. Weasley had been introduced to a group of dementors and Mr. Weasley had been forced to watch before he had been given his own introduction. The married couple had then been left on Azkaban Island before Hadrian and Hermione had taken the boat back to the mainland.

Hermione had found a hex which made people both delusional and paranoid, and best of all it was nearly undetectable and strengthened over time. It would start with something small and then build from there. Having a Ministry worker inform him that his parents had been found on Azkaban Island lacking their souls had jump-started it. The disappearance of Ron and Ginny hadn’t helped either.

She’d hidden under the Peverell’s Invisibility Cloak and waited for Percy to leave the Ministry for the day before she had hit him with a compulsion charm. It had caused him to decide that a trip down a dark normal alley would be a marvelous idea. Being the pompous git he was he hadn’t noticed anything wrong. Two apparitions, some illegally obtained veritaserum, a hex, and an obliviation later and he had been left outside his flat in Diagon Alley.

Fred and George had been a much trickier project. Their questioning of Percy hadn’t revealed any guilt on their part, but it had implicated that they at the very least had known about the love potions. With that in mind, they’d adopted a wait-and-see approach and then moved on to Charlie who had rushed home from Romania to help out with their parents and missing siblings.

Hadrian had placed several compulsion charms on him so he would be acting more upset than he really had been, and then made sure that the last charm would ensure he would “accidentally” walk into a dragon’s fire when he returned to Romania.

Bill and Fleur had been the only ones to escape their wrath. They had questioned Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny using Veritaserum and none of the Weasley’s had said he was involved or even implicated in potioning or casting illegal spells on Hadrian and Hermione.

They’d discussed using the truth serum on the married couple but in the end, they had decided that it was too big a risk between Bill’s status as a Gringotts Curse Breaker and Fleur being part Veela. In the end, they went back to Egypt where they’d been working for the last 11 months.

The interrogations had revealed so much of the betrayal and backstabbing which had been going on behind their backs that it had been overwhelming at some points. But being who they were, or at least Hadrian being the Boy-Who-Lived, they had access to most of the witches and wizards they needed to get the full story.

Over the next 40 years or so they’d killed thousands of magical people up and down the country. Many of them had been Death Eaters, others had been supporters or people who were willing to do just about anything for money, fame, or power.

The irony hadn’t been lost on either one of them; between the two of them, they had killed more people than the last five or six dark lords in Britain combined. At the same time, they were hailed as Leaders of the Light. Hadrian had wondered more than once if he used some of the same things to justify their actions as Dumbledore had used to justify his own.

He looked up at the thin scar on his forehead again. What would’ve happened if Dumbledore hadn’t allowed and encouraged the public persona/myth of the Boy-Who-Lived? Would he still have been seen as a hero? Would he have been forgotten as so many other orphaned children had been?

Why had Dumbledore created a myth around him? It still made no sense. Research into the books and Harry Potter merchandise had soon revealed that not only didn’t he get a knut of the proceeds, but 30% were going straight into Albus Dumbledore’s personal account. The yearly payout was enough that he could’ve lived very comfortably without doing anything else.

Hadrian smirked at his reflection as he imagined telling the reporters that he and Hermione were responsible for more deaths in the last 80 years than they could possibly imagine.

Some hero he was.


	2. If You Must Falter, Be Wise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, and/or gave kudos for the first chapter! I got a lot bigger response than I expected. :)

The next time Harry opened his eyes he was in a small, dark, and cramped space that smelled vaguely of urine, detergent, and other cleaning supplies. A woman was standing on the other side of the door, rapping her fingers on it and screeching that he had to get up.

He quickly changed back from the animal form he had instinctively turned himself into when he sensed the small space he was in, before he answered her in a voice he hoped didn’t sound too shocked.

“I’m up.”

“Well, hurry up. Set the table before Vernon and Dudley comes down.” Petunia Dursley’s voice was just as grating as he remembered it, unfortunately. His own voice was higher than he remembered, too.

“Yes, aunt Petunia.”

He had somehow gone back in time. He’d gone back, or rather his conscious had been sent back, and he still had his animagi ability! He quickly tested his occlumency shields and grinned stupidly to himself in the dark as he got dressed. Muscle memory ensured that he didn’t bump into the walls or the back of the stairs as he removed his pajamas and put on a pair of too large jeans only held up by an old belt, and a t-shirt with a cartoon on it that was only two sizes too big.

He, Harry James Potter, only child of Lily Caitlin Evans Potter and James Neil Potter, had finally gotten his deepest, most desperate wish! With any luck he was far enough back in time that he could do some special, secret shopping before he got his acceptance letter to Hogwarts again. And this time he had no intention of showing the letter to anyone.

Getting out of the cupboard under the stairs and finally being able to stand up straight proved that he was clearly even further back in the past than he had expected when he was able to pass through the door without having to even bend his head. Another clue was that he was wearing his old round, black glasses, something his relatives had only bought him after the school nurse had demanded it several times, and then threatened to press charges against them for child abuse and deliberately hampering his education. Getting glasses had been one of his few good memories from his childhood.

Not that it had been all sunshine and puppies, mind you, but he’d finally been able to  _ see _ properly! They’d bought the cheapest pair they could find, which just happened to be  _ very _ similar to his deceased father's glasses. It had taken Harry until fifth year to understand that was one of the reasons the Dursley’s had been so angry. Being back in this godforsaken house made him realise that that little stunt had Albus Dumbledore written all over it in big, capital letters.

He sighed inwardly before he pasted a properly cowed expression on his face and forced his body language to match it. It was going to be a long 4-5 years until he was back at Hogwarts, but at least he had a lot of time to plan his revenge. Now if only Lady Luck was on his side and Hermione was back in the past as well, then his situation would be even better.

But first he needed to figure out today’s date and then he could begin outlining his plan properly…

***

Nine hours of hard work and mental and physical abuse later and he was back in his cupboard armed with one of Dudley’s sketchbooks, two Bic pens, a bottle of water, two apples, a banana, two slices of bread, and today’s date. This time around he refused to allow himself to be starved and he had every intention of stealing the food they denied him. He had also come to the conclusion that if he wanted to have a healthier body this time around he would need to start stealing food at the local grocery store, and anywhere else when he got the chance. Painkillers would be a good idea as well, if he could get his hands on them. It was another reason to hate his relatives; they forced him to become a criminal just to get the basics he was entitled to and to deal with their treatment of him.

Another thing he needed to get was a second bottle so he didn’t need to hold it in for hours on end, just because the Dursley’s wanted to torture him for existing. Finding a bottle wouldn’t be difficult, but finding one with a screw cap might. Smelling urine was something he wanted to avoid if at all possible, and the Dursley’s punishment for “wetting” himself wouldn’t just be physical. They would no doubt add humiliation to it, and his  _ darling _ cousin would do his best to help.

He had very little light but he forced himself to sit at an angle that would allow him to get as much light from the hallway to hit his sketchpad as possible, thank you much younger body. It wasn’t much, but he could see just enough to get by. He needed to write several long lists, do some brainstorming, and then rearrange everything on them in order of importance. The hundred year old turned six year old smiled to himself, Hermione had rubbed off on him over the years in more ways than one.

First of all he needed to get the potions to flush his system of whatever inhibiting potions Dumbledore had ensured he was dosed with, and then he needed to get the potions that would break all the bindings on him. All of which had to be preceded by a series of potions that would hide the fact that he had found out about the treachery in the first place and taken action, and make sure that further potions couldn’t take hold.

Harry gave the pad a determined look, before his lips curled up in a humorless smile. The fact that his Occlumency shields were still strong and active was helping him to push back Dumbledore’s spells and potions. He would’ve preferred to have gotten a new wand, but there was no way that anyone would sell a wand to an apparent six year old. Oh well, he’d deal with that problem later. For now he had books to buy/steal, and a plan to get money since he couldn’t access his Trust Vault yet without alerting people to his presence and Dumbledore to his forbidden knowledge.

***

It took 16 days before Aunt Petunia finally brought him and Dudley to a bookstore, his cousin wanted new coloring books, crayons, paintbrushes, and paint after he had thrown one of his infamous tantrums and ruined nearly half of his supplies after he ran out of blue paint. She only brought Harry along because she didn’t want him to be alone in the house incase he broke or stole something valuable, and Mrs. Figg had been unavailable. His vicious thought of  _ too late for that, auntie _ , went unvoiced.

Which reminded him; he needed to go through his aunt’s things to see if she had kept anything from her sister. Letters, Potter jewelry, other things she had no business having. The letter Dumbledore left on the doorstep along with him on that very early and chilly November morning five years previous.

While Petunia Dursley was fussing over the baby whale Harry decided to wander around the bookstore and do a little “shopping” of his own. First stop: dictionaries. He needed several, Latin/English-English/Latin, Gaelic/English-English/Gaelic, English/English, Greek/English-English/Greek. His plan included much more than that, but he needed to start somewhere and while his clothes were baggy they could only hide so much. Besides, books were  _ heavy _ .

Luckily he’d had the forethought to bring his backpack, like everything else he owned it had once belonged to Dudley and been passed over to Harry when his cousin got a new and bigger one. He discreetly put the four books into it and quickly zipped it up before he put it back on. A quick glance around assured him that no one had seen his first attempt at shoplifting, and he moved over to the biography section and found one about Merlin. The one he really wanted was both too large and way too heavy for his small and underfed body, and he had to settle for a smaller paperback. Oh well, he could come back later, and it wasn’t like he actually needed it. Mostly he was just curious about how the muggles saw the greatest wizard of all time, and if they knew something the Wizarding World had either forgotten or refused to share outside of certain circles.

He wandered back to the center of the shop to see how far his aunt had gotten with his cousin. To his vague surprise they were looking at children’s books. Dudley couldn’t read yet, but his mother was always willing to read to him. Maybe he had finally tired of the old ones and had decided that this was a great opportunity to get his mother to buy even more for him. Harry rolled his eyes and quickly walked over to the sketchpads/notebooks and moved several into his backpack, along with more pens, a pack of pencils made specially for drawing, a pack of color pencils, two pencil sharpeners, and four erasers.

He had just gotten back to the spot where his aunt had told him to wait before she led Dudley to the paint boxes. Her arms were full of all the supplies her son had demanded before they left the house, and in addition to that she was also holding several books and what looked like a toy dinosaur. The one book he could see the cover of had a pirate and a large ship on it. Harry remembered his cousin throwing that book at him several times.  _ Good times _ , he thought.  _ Not _ .

“Did you touch anything, boy?” Aunt Petunia asked in her ‘indoor’ voice, which he supposed was her form of lowering her normally screeching voice. Harry was pretty sure that everyone in the vicinity heard every word.

“No, aunt Petunia.” He lied easily. “I just walked around a bit and then came back here.” His voice on the other hand was low and barely audible. His eyes were downcast submissively and his hands were clasped in front.

The woman narrowed her dark blue eyes on her nephew for a few seconds before she ushered her son in the other direction so they could pay at the desk. Harry followed several steps behind, and while she was paying he snatched several small flashlights and two packs of batteries. Unlike the rest of his loot these went into his pockets.

***

Later that day he went through his catch while trying to remember where the loose floorboard was down here. When he lived in Dudley’s second bedroom it had been under his bed, almost by the wall.  _ Hmm… _ He took out the four dictionaries. There were a lot of things he would never understand about the wizarding world, and one of those were why the bloody hell they didn’t learn at least basic Latin. Most of the spells they used were in that language and having a basic understanding of what the words meant would’ve been highly beneficial to the students.

Like so many other things in that world he blamed the purebloods. Most of them were given lessons in everything from Magical History to Etiquette to Latin to spells not covered by the Hogwarts curriculum, or they were simply told the spells before starting school/each school year,  in order to give them an advantage over muggleborns and muggle raised half-bloods. Seriously, what would it have cost the school to add a Latin dictionary to the list of schoolbooks for the first years? The books were paid for by the parents and legal guardians of the students, not the school or it’s faculty.

Gaelic and Greek were not as important, but many of the spells used in Healing were in Greek and many of the Old Rituals were held in Gaelic. Not many rituals were allowed anymore, the Ministry of Magic had long since decided that they were all ‘evil’ or dark, but it was useful information and many of the older books were in those three languages.

The same list that had those dictionaries, also had ones for Runes, Hieroglyphs, and other old alphabets. He wanted to know what the muggles knew about them before he bought the magical counterparts in a few years when he would hopefully not look quite so young anymore.

The English/English dictionary was mostly just to expand his own vocabulary. A thesaurus and grammar books for writers would need to be added at some point. He also intended to make sure he read a lot of the fiction he had missed out on before, both of the children and teen variety. Adult books would have to wait until his second year at Hogwarts, at least.


	3. Extra-Curricular Education

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, and left kudos on this fic! It's much appreciated and encourages me to write more. :)

****Harry spent the rest of the summer re-reading his schoolbooks from Year One and Year Two to refresh his memory and make sure he properly learned what he hadn’t the first time around. He was determined that he would get a good muggle education this time, no matter what Dumbledore and the Dursley’s wanted.

Yes, Hermione had done her best to try and make sure he learned at least some of the school work from Primary School, Secondary School, and so on, but it wasn’t the same as actually studying the subjects in a school setting. She did try though and Harry appreciated the effort, especially as it had come in very useful at times.

After a lot of lies and trickery he managed to get enough money to buy the potion ingredients he needed. It had involved a version of the teenage lie ‘tell your mum you’re staying with me, and I’ll tell mine I’m staying with you’, except his aunt thought he was with Mrs. Figg and Mrs. Figg thought that Mrs. Dursley hadn’t gone out after all. This also had the advantage that he got the pittance that his aunt intended to pay Mrs. Figg for looking after him for the evening.

He took the bus to London, lied to Tom the Barkeeper that he had gotten separated from his parents and could he please open the entrance to Diagon Alley for him? After a visit to Gringotts to exchange pounds for galleons, the goblins didn’t care about his age, he had gone shopping in Knockturn Alley as he was as likely to be able to buy potions in Diagon Alley as he was to be able to buy a wand. He would’ve loved to buy a wand in Knockturn but wasn’t about to push his luck that far just yet. There was also the issue where his magical core wasn’t stable enough yet to use a focus.

He used a simple disguise; he’d ‘borrowed’ a set of black children’s clothing which fit him much better than his hand-me-downs from Dudley, from someone’s clothes line a couple of streets over, and a cliche dark blond wig from another house. The usual light blond wig would’ve looked too fake with his black eyebrows. He’d had to sneak around for over a week to get everything. His famous scar had been hidden by makeup stolen from Mrs. Next Door's’ teenage daughter. On the plus side, it was a non-magical disguise which meant that he wasn’t exposed by the goblins. Score!

School had let out in mid-June and he had lost nearly three weeks waiting for his first trip to London, and then another week while he brewed the potions but he was finally on track. His mind and powers were back under his control, and he could begin his revisions in earnest.

He had two years worth of English, Mathematics, Science, Computing (Information and Communication Technologies), Phys. Ed., Geography, History, Music, Art & Design, Design & Technology, Religious Education, and Personal, Social and Health Education to re-learn. He also needed to choose a foreign language for next year. His brain was going to melt.

***

Two years later and his grades had steadily improved to the point where he got almost only top grades. His health had also improved and he was taller than he had been originally at this point in time, and while he was still short and skinny for his age it was nowhere near as bad as it could’ve been. But then again, all the pictures he had seen of his father and grandfather had shown that it was obviously a family trait to be on the short side until about their mid-teens, along with the gravity defying black hair. Harry could live with that, especially since he was counting on his mother’s genes to give some extra height.

On the downside the abuse from his so-called relatives had escalated to become much more violent. Neither Petunia or Vernon approved in the least of his remarkable grades and the praise he received for his pursuit of knowledge during the Parent/Teacher meetings, especially since their precious Duddykins was below average due to his refusal to study. Like last time aunt Petunia had forced Harry to do her son's homework for him when the spoiled brat wanted to watch the telly instead. Unlike last time however, Harry had decided to simply copy his own homework and then put Dudley’s name on it. _That_ had resulted in some major embarrassment for his ‘dear’ cousin when the teacher had tried to make him show off during class and the little whale had had no idea what the man was talking about. You’d think he’d at least bother to read through it, but no that would require actual work and that would just not do.

The teacher had then tried to punish Harry for cheating, but since he knew all the answers it hadn’t worked very well. This dance had repeated itself several times before the Dursley’s had been called in and whatever had happened during that meeting caused Harry a severe beating when uncle Vernon returned home, in addition he’d been thrown into his cupboard for three days without food. But in the end Dudley had been forced to do his own homework, and actually study, and Harry had showed up at school full of bruises. He could’ve allowed his magic to heal him, but he’d decided that the Dursley’s free use of him as their personal punching bag was well and truly over, and that meant no magical healing. The lack of magical healing meant that all of his bruises, wounds, and scratches had to heal the muggle way. Which meant that now that there were no compelling or confundus charms on him people would notice the abuse.

Like abusive people everywhere however, they began to hit him in places that wouldn’t normally be visible. Back, stomach, legs and arms (in the winter), and of course, spanking was a popular punishment. His too-large Dudley cast-offs hid any bruises and wounds completely.

In an attempt to both get in better shape and to avoid his ‘family’ as much as possible, he began playing football and started running every morning. Whenever he could he went to the local library and read anything that caught his fancy. He didn’t have a library card, asking for one would’ve gotten him nothing other than enlightening them to one of the places where he could be found, and he didn’t even want to consider what they’d do to the books if they got a hold of them. No, it had to stay secret.

His private language study was going well; his understanding of Latin had improved greatly, and Gaelic and Greek were coming along well, too. He had recently conducted his fourth trip to Diagon Alley, and this time he had bought a bunch of books on magical subjects, such as magical history, etiquette, magical families/family trees, and various other books including the magical equivalents of his dictionaries. The latter would be very helpful during Hogwarts since they were geared towards students learning magic.

On the trip before that he had bought a four compartment trunk with extra shrinking charms, which included an interesting feature where the trunk could remain shrunken but he was still able to add or remove things from it. It was very helpful as it would’ve been difficult to open the trunk inside the cupboard. The objects, mostly his secret stash of books/notebooks and food/liquids, would shrink down to about the size of an adult females pinky nail when it came within 20 cm of the box.

The trunk also had a number of safety features, which were keyed to Harry’s magical signature and had to be used in combination with a Parseltongue password, in order to unshrink or open it. Each compartment had a separate and unrelated password to ensure the security of the contents, in addition to seperate keys.

The four compartments were intended for a) books, which had been the main reason he even looked at it;  b) clothes, which was a great place to hide the stolen clothing, wigs, and makeup he used for unsanctioned trips both to Diagon Alley and various places in the muggle world, c) a chest of drawers, which he used for most other things, and finally d) an empty room.

The room itself was 20m x 20m and with a 2,5m high ceiling. It came with no furnishings or accommodations other than the inbuilt bookshelves, the closet, and chest of drawers which were all available from the outside. If he wanted something to make it more useful or to make it feel more like a bedroom, study, or living room he’d have to buy it himself. He had also needed to buy something to make sure he had light, which the shop assistant had oh so helpfully showed him a selection of.

On the positive side he was free to practise his wandless magic down there, and later on he would be able to practise regular wanded magic. According to a book Hermione had found in one of the Potter libraries there was apparently something about the combination of shrinking and expanding charms in combination with certain defensive spells which caused the Trace not to pick up (underage) magic. For obvious reasons this was another piece of knowledge the Ministry of Magic had banned.

A couple of weeks after Harry’s tenth birthday he intended to make another trip to see if he could get that year's book list, and hopefully get himself an illegal wand in Knockturn Alley in the middle of all the chaos. If his studies went well he might get even _more_ books. Hermione would’ve been so proud if she’d known. Harry smiled to himself. He had one more year before he would be under Dumbledore’s manipulations and intense scrutiny again. That was going to _suck_. On the other hand he would finally be able to see Hermione again. He swallowed, closed his eyes, and hoped once again that Lady Luck would grant him the Hermione he had known in the future and not just the 11 year old girl she had originally been. She had almost as much to revenge as he had, and he wanted her to get the chance.

***

Harry spent the next year learning all he could about the muggle world during the day and during the night he studied magic, the magical world, and languages - both muggle and magical. The trip to Knockturn Alley in mid-August had been exceptionally successful, even when he included his highest hopes. It had yielded a new custom wand that was untraceable, with an accompanying holster spelled to be invisible unless he chose to reveal it, and it also had anti-summoning, anti-theft charms, plus runes protecting it from the elements and minor to moderate hexes. It had space for up to three wands in it and the option to show only the ones the wearer wanted.

A trip into a shady looking bookstore had gotten him even more books on less subjects, including several on parseltongue and three that were actually written in parselscript. That had been a pleasant surprise. He’d side-tracked into Diagon where he bought two bottomless and featherlight book bags before he went to the apothecary to resupply his potion stores.

It had been amazing how much his understanding of brewing and potion making had improved when he was taught by someone competent. It had also had the additional benefit of giving him a better understanding of Herbology as well. In his original past, now a future he had every intention on making sure didn’t happen, he had hired a Swiss potion mistress to teach him and Hermione everything from scratch. He was by no means a Potions Master, and he never would be as that wasn’t where his talents lay, but his grade should definitely go up even by Snape’s harsh standards.

The second bottomless bag was a present to Hermione on her 11th birthday on 19th September, 1990. He’d sent it to her anonymously through the muggle post with just a note which simply read ‘For my favorite bossy Know-It-All on the occasion of her 11th year on Earth. See you on my birthday at Noon?’ With any luck she would understand the implications and be there. If she didn’t there would be a very confused witch somewhere in Kent.

***

He had two big, non-magical problems he needed to solve before primary school ended: 1. He needed new glasses. His current ones were beginning to give him a headache due to his squinting. And 2. How was he going to be able to continue his muggle education while at Hogwarts?

Getting the school books for his first year of secondary school shouldn’t be a problem as aunt Petunia would get them for him, along with his home-dyed uniform, but how was he going to do the end-of-year tests and the exams without the help of his relatives? Oh well, he had nearly two years to figure that out. Hermione would probably know. He made a note on his very long to-do list. He was certain he could convince either version of his friend that getting a muggle education would be highly beneficial.

Getting new glasses on the other hand was imperative, and he needed to get them before school let out so he could use that as an excuse. He quickly decided that it would be unwise to wait until right before school began, as Hogwarts started a week earlier than Stonewall High and Smeltings Academy and his aunt would no doubt wait until the last minute. There was no chance that they would do it during the summer, and they would definitely _not_ buy him glasses so he could learn magic. _Hmm_ … That meant public destruction of his current set, but who should do the honors/get the blame? Dudley and his gang were out, unfortunately, but there were other bullies…

This time he wanted minimalist rectangular rimless glasses with silver temple and black temple tips so they would be less visible. It would make his transition to contact lenses in a few years much smoother, and it would also make him resemble his father less. In later years people had remarked that he looked more like his mother when his eyes weren’t framed by black glasses. The big question was if he’d be able to get that past his relatives. _On second thought_ , if he got some other bullies to ruin his glasses then he might be able to convince the school and his aunt and uncle that the offending students’ parents should pay for them… He smirked. That just might work.

Well, that was one half of a problem solved, now he just needed to find a way to execute the plan and he would be the proud owner of a brand new pair of spectacles!

***

Six months later and his plan had gone off without a hitch. A group of bullies had cornered him not far from the school entrance and when he saw several teachers walk in their direction he’d made sure he got hit hard enough for his glasses to fly off. Predictably the lead bully had deliberately stepped on them in full view of the teachers. The boy in question had been expelled, the rest of his group had spent the remaining seven weeks in detention, and the parents of the lead bully had been forced by the school to buy new glasses for Harry. He’d even gotten the kind of glasses he wanted, despite the price.

After all, the Jefferson family were under the impression that the Dursley's were middle class and would therefore have been able to afford them. Aunt Petunia didn’t contradict their belief, mainly because he had made sure to inform her beforehand that it would make them look poor if she demanded that he got something cheap. He’d even managed to get a pair of cheap jeans and a shirt that fit properly out of the deal. The internal struggle that had played across her face at that had been amusing. Mustn’t allow anyone to think they were anything but completely normal, right?

Playing mind games were more fun than he had initially thought.


	4. Re-Entry Into the Magical World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Sorry about the long time since the last update, I've had writer's block. This chapter just did not want to cooperate. I'm not really happy with it, but I'm tired of editing it, and have chosen to move on to the next chapter instead.
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome, flaming is not.
> 
> Thank you to all the people who have read this fic so far, left kudos and/or commented, and of course a special thank you to those who have liked it enough to subscribe to it! :D

It was finally, finally, Wednesday, 24 July, 1991 and the almost 11 year old Harry was lying awake in the small cupboard that doubled as his bedroom. He was waiting for his aunt to come and 'wake' him so he could make breakfast for his 'relatives'.

Today was the day when the first acceptance letter from Hogwarts would arrive, and he was planning to allow it to play out more or less the same way as it had the first time, except for the part where the Dursley's found out he had gotten mail. In fact he had it all planned out in his head, but like so many other plans it would not survive contact with reality.

The difference this time was that he was prepared; he had a lot of real, authentic knowledge about his family, both the Potter family and the Evans family, instead of just the lies his aunt and her husband had always told him in order to make him feel worthless. He also knew about the magical world, both the good parts, the bad parts, and the extremely horrible things.

Harry's heartbeat sped up as he heard a door upstairs open quietly and close before the same thing happened with a second door further down the the hall. A while later he heard the tell-tale sound of feet going down the stairs above him, and he changed back into his human form before he sat up in anticipation.

Several sharp raps on the cupboard door was followed by his aunts shrill voice, "Up! Get up you lazy freak! I need you to cook breakfast, and don't you dare burn the bacon again!" The burnt bacon had, of course, been Dudley's fault, which Aunt Petunia was fully aware of, but like most things in the Dursley's household anything that went wrong was Harry's fault. It didn't matter one little bit if he was actually guilty or even present. Anything that could could be blamed on him was, as was anything the three of them were unwilling to take responsibility for.

Two low clicks were followed by another knock signifying that she had unlocked the door.

"I'm up, Aunt Petunia." He rearranged his limbs on the thin mattress that was supposed to be his bed, before he went up on bended knee so he could open the door and get out.

"Hurry up, boy! I don't have all morning." Then he heard her walking towards the kitchen. Right afterwards Harry heard his cousins heavy footsteps on the floor above walking towards the stairs and he hurried over to stove, and the waiting bacon, before Dudley could ram him into the wall on the way past. For a family claiming to be so 'normal' it was remarkable how different they were from the actual normal families.

The next 15 minutes were more or less the same as it had been the first time around; Vernon glared at him and ordered him to get a haircut, his black, unruly hair now reached about half-way between his ears and his shoulders; Vernon and Dudley demanded more food; they both had a distinct lack of table manners; and Harry and Dudley even had the argument over who should get the mail. Unsurprisingly he ended up having to get it, both to avoid his cousins Smelting's stick and to secure his Hogwarts Acceptance Letter.

After having successfully avoided his cousin's parent sanctioned bullying he walked out of the kitchen and down the short hallway to the front door where the mail had been dropped through the mail slot. His heartbeat had been increasing as he left his relatives in the other room, soon he would have his ticket out of this hellhole! Except when he neared the front door he didn't see the yellowish parchment that the Wizarding World was still using, nor did he see it when he came closer. He rapidly moved the last bit to the door before he picked up the mail from the indoor entry mat before he quickly sorted through it. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he saw it beneath all the other mail.

Everything else from the last time around was there as well: the more modern white envelopes addressed mostly to Vernon Dursley, the brown envelope that was most likely a bill, glossy junk mail, the postcard from aunt Marge, and the day's newspaper.

The changes he had made on the sly had been many and some had even been ground-breaking, and there had been a small chance that his status as a time traveling adult in a child's body mightn't somehow have gotten him considered to be the adult he really was.

Regardless, he still had to keep up appearances with his relatives while he tried to figure which of his many plans he was going to use going forward, and so he hurried back to the kitchen his heart beating a nervous rhythm against his ribcage. Only this time he made sure to hide his newly acquired letter inside his baggy clothing before he came into view of the kitchen's occupants.

Two hours later found Harry in the garden pruning his Aunts roses. It was a boring and repetitive job, but he didn't really mind. The work was automatic to him by now and it gave him a good opportunity to mentally go through his plans, make adjustments, and generally make rough outlines of new plans or polish the existing ones. It had also given him the chance to use some of the knowledge from his Herbology classes. Yes, there were obvious differences between magical and muggle plants, but some of them were either the same or similar enough that they could be adapted for non-magical flowerbeds. Prior to the pruning he had mowed the lawn, which was even better for such things as grand plans.

The garden at Number 4, Privet Drive was the envy of the neighbourhood, which his Aunt took credit for despite the fact that everyone could clearly see Harry working with both the flowerbeds and the lawn several times as week. The additional fact that no one had ever seen Petunia Dursley even attempting to do any gardening, ordering her nephew around did not count, didn't seem to matter to her. It would become quite obvious once he left this god-forsaken place.

Unless either his Aunt or Uncle decided to start mowing the lawn or pruning the various flowers during the late Summer/early Autumn, which was highly unlikely. He laughed again at the mental image of Dudley trying to mow the lawn and collapsing in exhaustion after only a few meters.

In between the two tasks he had been able to sneak enough time to read his letter. Something he had immediately thanked his lucky star for as the letter, while mostly what he expected it to be, also included a few more details than the first time while lacking in others.

Albus Dumbledore was still headmaster and he was still listed as having an _Order of Merlin, First Class_ , plus being a _Grand Sorc._ and _Chf. Warlock_ , but the _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards_ part was missing. Apparently something Harry had done had gotten Dumbledore fired as the head of the ICW. Harry's face split into a huge smile for a few seconds at the implication.

However the last paragraph of the letter was changed somewhat. It still told him that term would begin on 1st September, but instead of informing him that they expected his owl no later than 31st July it said a representative for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would come to his place of residence at ten to explain and answer any questions he and his guardians might have.

The second parchment had a number of additional mandatory clothing than the original list had had, it also had a longer list of books, and under 'Other Equipment' there were several extra items such as safety goggles. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that if his Hermione was back she would be absolutely gleeful at the extra subjects which had been added to the curriculum.

The first new book on the list was _Introduction to the Magical World/Introduction to the Muggle World._ With any luck was written by someone, or rather several someones, who actually had first hand knowledge of the two worlds instead of the Muggle Studies book Hermione had had in Third Year. It seemed to consist mostly of outdated information and Pureblood prejudices.

The other five new books were obviously for Mathematics, English, Muggle History, and Latin. They had even managed to include a dictionary. Harry mentally gave himself 10 points. The muggle subjects were obviously mandatory, but the big questions here were; who's teaching them, were they mandatory for Second Years and onward, or would they become electives or dropped altogether?

No matter, he had obviously managed to make enough changes to seriously upgrade the extremely outdated curriculum Hogwarts had insisted on keeping for centuries. It wasn't perfect, but at least they were getting somewhere. Hopefully the upgrade included the old core subjects as well. He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping for certain teachers being exchanged for new, actually useful ones.

A few minutes to ten he heard footsteps coming down the sidewalk close to Number 4, but he didn't pay it any mind as he was physically busy with pruning and mentally occupied with trying to figure out how the new information fit into his plans and what he needed to adjust. On the plus side there would definitely be less self-study, but on the negative side there would be less free time.

His attention was redirected when he suddenly heard the footsteps turn towards the Dursley's driveway and whoever it was was coming closer to him. When he looked up he got the biggest shock in his most recent past; less than three meters away and moving closer was the diminutive form of none other than Filius Flitwick. Harry blinked, and blinked again. Nope, the Charms Professor was still there.

"May I help you, sir?" Thankfully his voice sounded only vaguely surprised rather than the mild shock he was feeling. He had been expecting Professor McGonagall to come, as in the last timeline it had been one of the duties of the Deputy Headmistress to visit the muggleborn and their families and enlighten them to the hidden Magical World. But then again, Dumbledore had sent _Hagrid_ last time, so he wasn't complaining. Professor McGonagall versus Aunt Petunia promised to be even more entertaining, especially since he had the necessary information to understand the implied things.

Apparently one of the changes, or perhaps a series of changes, he had made over the years had caused a personal meeting with an actual professor rather than just a letter which had arrived out of the blue last time. Or perhaps it had something to do with the new subjects. Not that he minded, this would have been most helpful back then.

"Actually, Mr. Potter, I would like to speak to you and your guardians, if you have the time? I believe you received a letter earlier this morning stating that a representative from Hogwarts would be by at ten?" The little part-Goblin asked in his high squeaky voice.

"Of course, but are you really sure you want to talk to them? They're pretty rude to anyone who doesn't fit their perception of 'normal'. He asked in a dubious voice before he added, "Aunt Petunia is inside, but her husband is at work." Harry had very deliberately waited until Vernon had left for work and Dudley had gone to meet his gang before he showed his aunt the acceptance letter. Her behavior tended to be less volatile without her husband and son around.

Harry could see the professor frowning at him in slight confusion, but he had decided that at the very least giving the appearance of having good manners would go a long way. Memories of Ronald Weasley and his distinct lack of such, plus the behavior of his male relatives, had made the decision easy. He had no wish to be compared to any of them.

After a short discussion, which included some very basic information on why he was there, Harry went inside to inform Aunt Petunia that were was a professor from a boarding school outside who wanted to talk to them. Her reaction had been just as horrified as he'd expected it to be, despite the earlier warning, just as he schooled his features to show show slight surprise and confusion at her sudden anger. None the less, five minutes later there had been a part-Goblin in the Dursley's kitchen and Harry was smirking inwardly like it was going out of style.

At noon Professor Flitwick apparated Harry to the Leaky Cauldron, where they quickly walked towards the little backroom where the entrance to Diagon Alley was located. Thankfully there were no mentions of the Boy Who Lived or his curse scar, the latter Harry had made certain was covered by his hair before they left for the bar, and they were allowed to pass through to the cobblestone street on the other side.

Flitwick had explained to Harry that they would be visiting Diagon Alley just so he could go to Gringotts to get gold for his shopping, and to buy his wand. Everything else would be bought at Mystic Alley, which he explained was the main shopping street of the Neurotic Alley Shopping District.

As soon as the archway was open Harry did his best to act like the shocked and amazed almost-11 year old he had been the first time around. His eyes straying first to the cauldron shop across from the back entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, then to the various shops as they walked towards the bank. When they came to Eeylops Owl Emporium he quickly looked away; Hedwig was in there, or more likely the owl who would become his trusted familiar. Across the street was the Quidditch supply store, Quality Quidditch Supplies, where a group of boys about his own age were standing with their noses pressed against the window trying to get a good look at the new Nimbus Two Thousand.

Finally they reached the snowy-white building which towered over all the little shops. The front door was made of burnished bronze, and Harry knew there was a second pair of doors behind them with a warning written as a poem and a compulsion charm which activated every time someone read it.

Both Flitwick and Harry bowed respectfully to the goblin who stood guard outside in his scarlet and gold uniform after the magical creature bowed to them first. He pretended not to see the goblins eyes widening at the sign of respect from a wizard, and instead kept his eyes wide as he took in everything before him. Filius Flitwick had given his a crash course in how to behave while in the bank; what to say, what not to say, what not to do, and so on. It would been good to know originally.

After the second pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors, and Harry bowed back, they were suddenly inside a marble hall. More than a hundred goblins were sitting behind the counters and even more were showing people in and out of the many doors leading out of the great hall.

The two of them walked over to the counters, and once there Flitwick said something to the goblin in gobbledygook before handing over Harry's key. After the goblin examined it closely, he nodded, and said, in English, "That seems to be in order. I will have someone take you down to the vault. Griphook!"

There was no mention of vault seven hundred and thirteen, and Flitwick chose to stay in the marble hall rather than intrude in Harry's personal business. Which Harry appreciated very much. It also gave him a chance to talk to Griphook.

As he followed Griphook down the steeply sloping and narrow stone passageway Harry sought out the railway tracks he knew were there. Once they were in the cart, after the goblin guide/guard had whistled for it, they hurtled down the twists and turns which would eventually lead them to the Potter Trust Vault.

Once they were out of sight Harry grinned at the goblin.

"Greetings, Griphook. May your gold flow eternally and your enemies always be crushed by your will."

Griphook bared his teeth in what the young wizard knew passed as a smile within the goblin race.

"Greetings, Mr. Potter. May your gold flow eternally and your enemies always be crushed by your will."

"So far things have worked out pretty good on my end, are there any news from yours?"

"Mystic Alley have proven to be a valuable investment and so far your other plans have also been showing a good return."

Harry allowed himself to grin in pleasure at that. Mystic Alley had been a calculated risk, but he had been more than willing to take the chance. After several long chats with some of the goblins, they'd had to meet him in the muggle world due to his supposed age and therefore difficulty getting to London, but they had finally agreed.

Thanks to a meeting with the Potter Family Estate Manager at Gringotts, Harry had gotten a crash course in how to get around Dumbledore's manipulations of his entire life. Lily Potter nee Evans had been an independent woman, and unlike most married witches she had not merged her Personal Vault with her husband's Personal Vault, nor had she merged it with the Potter Family Vault when her in-laws were killed and she was given free access to all things Potter by James. A fact very few people had been aware of and the old coot, being a traditionalist at heart no matter what he portrayed to the public, didn't even consider that a first generation witch might want to control her own finances.

Among the paperwork in her vault was a pre-nuptial agreement which clearly stated that anything which was in Lily Potter's name, either her married name or her maiden name, would remain hers in the unlikely event Lily and James would be separated and/or divorced, and that if something were to happen to Lily it would be transferred to any children she might have. The contract was ironclad, it also made it crystal clear that the only person/people who could use and enter the vault was her and her children. Not even James had access without her explicit prior permission.

What this meant was that Harry could use the vault to fund things in the magical world. Unfortunately he couldn't withdraw smaller amounts to use for his shopping sprees nor could he exchange it for pounds. There was a large amount of gold in there, both from Lily's own investments in the magical world and because James had given her a lot of money. There also turned out to be paperwork for a normal bank account in a normal bank for her investments in the non-magical world. However he could not touch that until he turned 18. It was first and foremost earmarked for his university education in case of her untimely death.

The vault also had copies of Lily and James' marriage certificate, Harry's birth certificate, both Lily and James' Last Will and Testaments. There were two each of the birth and marriage certificates, one for the magical world and one for the muggle world. There were also various deeds, contracts, and other important paperwork/parchmentwork.

Part of the land the Neurotic Ally Shopping District was on had already belonged to the Potters, but the rest had been bought from various magical families who had shares going back centuries. In the future Harry had found parchment work which listed all the properties he owned, all the businesses he owned – both completely and partially, all heirlooms, various magical objects, and so on and so forth.

One of the properties he had owned shares in was an old, abandoned entirely magical settlement which had had its own shopping area. No one had lived there for more than four centuries and all the shops had closed decades before it was deserted. With the help of the goblins he'd bought the entire land plus some of the surrounding land owned by muggles. The last part had been more tricky, but with some give and take on both Harry's and Deathclaw's parts they had managed to come to an agreement.

Fast forward to July 1991 and it was a small but thriving area with a lot of shops owned mostly by first, second, and third generation magicals who had been unable to rent something in either Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade due to their blood status and in some cases a lack of financial support. The Decision to focus on the newer magical lines had been deliberate, both to make sure they remained in the magical world but also to ensure that there was growth somewhere in the otherwise medieval society.

In accordance with the Statute of Secrecy he had also built a large non-magical shopping center with an accompanying multi-level parking space right next to the magical district so no one would question people going to what appeared to, non-magical people to, be nowhere. Both parts seemed to be working out well so far.

He had briefly thought of naming it Magic Alley, Majestic Alley, Manic Alley, Mort Alley, or something equally egocentric, but figured it wouldn't help anything and Hermione would probably not approve. Or rather she'd give him what he'd dubbed _The Look_ and tell him he'd been juvenile again when she found out while trying not to laugh. The thought of her reaction to that had brought a smile to his face. Her reaction to the names he _had_ chosen remained a mystery, for now.

Harry's ownership of the Neurotic Ally Shopping District was a closely guarded secret between Harry and a few select Gringotts Goblins however, so he would need to remember to act surprised when Flitwick took him there later that day.

They reached Harry's vault and he climbed out and waited for Griphook to unlock the door. The same green smoke that had come billowing out the first time came out again and when it cleared he went inside.

He found a bag and started to fill it up with Galleons, Sickles, and even some Knuts. Last time he had only taken about 150 Galleons, which had held him over for his first and second year since he hadn't known how much money he had actually had, or what was expected of him. This time however he had no intention of looking like a pauper or have any of the cheap school things. Therefore he needed more gold. He also needed to buy a bunch of non-magical stuff. He winced inwardly at all the shopping trips he was going to have to go on in the near future.

After giving the vault a once-over and taking a walk around the inside to make sure he didn't miss anything he left, and he and Griphook went back up where the Charms Master was waiting patiently. But before they went into the cart he formally requested an audit of all of his vaults and the handling of his family estate. He also requested that he be given a list of all transactions to and from all his vaults since his parents deaths, and that all payments from his vaults were to be frozen until he had time to look it over and approve or reject them. Anyone with access to his vaults should have their access revoked.

Griphook bared his teeth again, and the two of them re-entered the cart before going back up to the main part of the bank.

20 minutes later Harry had 10, 000 pounds in cash hidden away in a magical wallet he had found in his trust vault, and Professor Flitwick was showing him the way to Ollivanders.

The shop was as narrow and shabby as ever, and when they entered a small tinkling bell announced their presence. This time though, Harry was prepared for the creepiness that was the shops owner and rather than allowing himself to be startled Harry made sure to turn around as soon as he felt his neck prickle.

"Hello," he said politely, "You must be Mr. Ollivander." The shock on the old wizards face only showed for two seconds before his face smoothed out and got his serene mystical persona back.

"Hello, Mr. Potter. You are an observant young man." Behind him Harry heard Flitwick startle and get up from the spindly chair he had sat down in.

"You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry, but Harry narrowed his eyes and moved backwards and to the side to avoid the other wizard. Ollivander ignored his attempt to avoid him and advanced again while he kept talking.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I saw your father favored it – it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

When the old man was once again to close for comfort and lifted his hand to move Harry's bangs away from his forehead in order to expose the lightning bolt shaped scar, Harry moved quickly out of the way – this time to the right rather than the left – and glared.

"Mind your manners, Mr. Ollivander. In the civilized world it's considered extremely rude to move into someones personal space without permission, especially when it's done to a complete stranger. And you do **not** attempt to touch them, especially not to see the scar left after a murder attempt on a child." There was steel in Harry's voice and it was clear that he found the behavior unacceptable.

He turned toward his escort, "Is this behavior indicative of the general magical population?"

"It is highly possible many will attempt to see the scar, or even demand to see it. As I explained when I picked you up this morning, you are a hero to many and they have waited for nearly a decade to see you."

Harry gave the frown that was expected of him at that reply, but truthfully he had already known the answer. Instead he asked another question.

"Is there another wand maker here?" Behind him he heard Ollivander draw in a breath, but before he had the chance to interrupt Flitwick replied.

"Unfortunately, no. At least not legally. The Ministry of Magic keeps a close eye on all wand makers in order to keep the crimes down. As registered wants are easier to track."

"I refuse to buy a wand from this creep. He clearly has no idea about personal boundaries or how to behave around children. I'm leaving. I'd rather get an illegal wand than give him any money." He said the last part as he began walking back towards the door.

"Mr. Potter! Please stop! I did not mean to offend you. I apologize."

"Not good enough. If you think it's acceptable to touch children that way you belong in prison, or possibly in a psychiatric ward, but not in a shop selling wands to children." He had turned his body half-way towards the older wizard, but turned back and kept walking as soon as he was finished and opened the door and stepped through.


End file.
